A Debt Of Honour
by Gary Merchant
Summary: Set immediately after Frontier In Space: the Doctor hovers close to death, as help from an unlikely source comes to his aid.


A DEBT OF HONOUR

The pale figure of the Doctor lay slumped against the TARDIS; Jo crouched over him, worried for him. "Doctor. Doctor, please wake up."

A few feet away stood the Master. His plans to set Earth against Draconia were in tatters, and in the normal run of things he would have made his escape. But Jo's plaintive cries over the Doctor's prone form seemed to stir something within him. Something he could not ignore. "How is he?"

Jo looked up at him, accusingly. "What do you care?"

"You may find this hard to believe, Miss Grant, but I care very much." He approached and knelt down next to her, removing his black gloves to check on the Doctor's pulse.

She grabbed his wrists with a fierceness that belied her slight frame. "Don't you dare touch him!"

The Master was stunned by her actions. "Let me go, you little fool!" he exclaimed. "I can help him."

Jo stared at him. "Help him to die, you mean."

"No, Miss Grant. To live."

There was an urgency to his words that unnerved Jo. For once, his sincerity was not an act. "I didn't intend for this to happen," he told her, as he began his examination. "You saw how confused things were here; absolute mayhem. When I raised my gun, it was just a reflex action…"

Jo thought back to the last few moments. One moment she and the Doctor were beside the TARDIS in a stand off against the Master, then everything seemed to happen at once. She was still unclear of the order of events that led to this point, but knew that the Master had been responsible.

And now she looked at him, confused. She could hardly believe that the Master was still here, much less ensuring the Doctor's well being. But as he continued his examination with the dexterity of a physician, he still seemed in no hurry to leave. "What is it about you two?" she wondered. "You're both at loggerheads each time you meet, and yet…?"

The Master gave her a sidelong glance. "Yes, Miss Grant?"

"Well, it's like there's a bond between you. Sometimes you seem like the best of friends, or used to be."

He nodded. "We were, a long time ago." The smile he gave her held no malice. "I must say, you are a very perceptive young lady."

She briefly returned the smile. "I suppose it's being in the Doctor's company. How is he?"

The Master was checking one side of the Doctor's chest, then the other. Then he laid his hand upon the Time Lord's throat and gently pressed his palm against the flesh. The Doctor's prone form arched, then relaxed as a sigh escaped from his mouth, his rate of breathing becoming more regular. "Well, that should help." He turned to Jo. "Both his hearts are slower than normal, but given time, he should recover. The problem is, time is not a luxury the Doctor can afford at the moment."

"You mean the Daleks?" Jo remembered.

"Yes." His face was grim as he replaced his gloves. "I admit it was rather foolish of me to ally myself with those creatures, but they and the Ogrons seem to come as a complete package." He looked down at the Doctor, and came to a decision. "I'm about to ask a great favour of you, Miss Grant. Given our previous encounters I would understand your reluctance, but I need you to trust me." He hesitated before asking. "Will you give me access to the Doctor's TARDIS?"

"Oh, no you don't." Still she could not be sure about him. "You're not leaving us stranded here." She blocked his path to the door.

The Master sighed. "Miss Grant, you forget I still have my own TARDIS. More reliable than the Doctor's, in fact."

"Then why…?"

"I think we both agree that whatever scheme the Daleks are planning, they must be stopped," he pointed out. "But the Doctor is hardly in the best condition to go after them."

"So?"

"So, if you will grant me access to the TARDIS, I will pre-set the co-ordinates for the Daleks' base of operations - a rather inhospitable planet called Spiridon. Now, what do you say?"

Jo looked from one Time Lord to the other, unsure of what to do. What the Master suggested made sense; the Doctor was in no fit state to pilot the TARDIS, and if the Master was being true to his word… "Why don't you just take the key from the Doctor?"

He smiled. "Because despite his current condition, that key is the one thing he would stubbornly cling onto, even with his dying breath. Now, he would hardly surrender it to me, but you… well, he trusts you, Miss Grant. And right now, the Doctor's fate is in your hands." At any other time, it would have been a veiled threat. But Jo could see that the Master was being as open and as honest as she had ever known him. Not that she fully trusted him.

"All right," she agreed, gently lifting the key from around the Doctor's neck. "But the doors stay open."

"As you wish." He took the key from her and opened the doors. Jo watched as he made his way to the central console and began inputting the co-ordinates. In a moment the task was complete. "There you are, my dear," he said, returning the key to her. "And now, I really must be on my way."

He paused to collect portable items from his workstation, and prepared to leave. "Wait," Jo called out.

Something in her voice called him back. "Well?"

"Why did you help us? You could have just left us here."

The Master considered the question. "As you so eloquently put it, there is a bond between myself and the Doctor. Think of it as repaying a debt of honour." He smiled. "Look after him, Miss Grant. He'll need all his strength against the Daleks."

Jo watched his departing form, then turned back to the Doctor as he began to awaken. "Jo, what…?"

"It's all right," she assured him. "Come on, let's get you into the TARDIS."

The sound of dematerialisation signalled the ship's departure, as the Master stepped out from the shadows, his hand raised in farewell.

One day, the battle would be at an end. A battle that would possibly end in death for one of them. But for a few moments that conflict had been put aside. For the Master had remembered.

"A debt of honour." He smiled at a distant memory, then returned to the task in hand. "I really must curb these bouts of conscience," he said to himself. "Otherwise I shall gain a most unwelcome reputation."


End file.
